by Jen Turano
“Indeed, but I’m quite certain you’ve been harboring misconceptions about me from the moment you saw me step foot on stage, which I’m going to assume was a year or two ago.”
The furrow deepened. “I’m still not sure what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m not a lady who enjoys being told I’m beautiful, nor am I a lady who enjoys being pampered, catered to, or treated as if I’m fragile. I’m also nothing like any of the characters I’ve ever played on stage.”
“You’re exactly like the character in The Lady in the Tower,” he argued. “Charming, demure, and delightful.”
Resisting a sigh, she moved to a fallen tree lying off the path and took a seat. “I would never be content to remain a prisoner in a tower, waiting for my very own prince charming to rescue me, which is exactly what Serena Seamore, my character, does. I’ve been on my own, Bram, for a very long time, and I’m quite capable, thank you very much, of taking care of myself.” She held up her hand when it looked as if he wanted to argue. “What you need to remember is that I’m an actress. Playing a part is what I do, and I’m successful because I can play parts very, very well. I’ve also been given an unusual face, expressive if you will, and that expressiveness allows me to convince people I’m someone I’m not.”
“Your face is lovely, not unusual.”
Lucetta waved away his compliment. “I’m not getting through to you, am I.”
“Of course you are.”
Lucetta drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “I’m afraid I’m not the lady you think you hold in high esteem.”
“I don’t think I hold you in high esteem, I know I do.”
“Oh . . . dear,” she muttered before she squared her shoulders. “I’m peculiar.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Oh, believe me, I am, and . . .” She patted the spot beside her on the log. “Perhaps you should take a seat.”
Lowering himself ever so slowly beside her, Bram frowned. “Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re about to tell me something I’m not going to care to hear?”
“Because I am, and while I truly don’t want to hurt your feelings, you need to understand that the last thing I need at the moment is another admirer.”
“You don’t care for people who admire your work?”
“I don’t think it’s only my work you admire, Bram.”
His only response was to consider her for a drawn-out moment, until he released a bit of a sigh and began scrutinizing the trees that surrounded them.
Not being a lady who ever cared to hurt a person’s feelings, she reached out and touched Bram’s arm.
“I would enjoy being friends with you, though.”
He stopped scrutinizing the trees and pinned her beneath a brilliant blue gaze. “You want to be my friend?”
“I don’t have many friends, especially male friends, but the few I do have . . . well, I enjoy their company tremendously.” She took a second to pat his arm again. “Although, to be clear, if you and I become friends, you’ll need to stop admiring me.”
“Most ladies enjoy admiration.”
“Most ladies don’t attract admirers who want to acquire them, even going so far as to coerce a weak-minded stepfather into a game of cards in order to cheat him and have said stepfather offer his stepdaughter up as a means to honor a debt.”
Bram arched a brow. “May I assume we’re talking about something other than my admiration for you now?”
She nodded, just once.
Leaning forward, he frowned. “May I also assume you’re the stepdaughter in question in this particular instance, and that one of your admirers expects you to . . . honor your stepfather’s debt?”
“Unfortunately, you may make that assumption because Silas Ruff—one of my most repulsive admirers—expects just that, which should, I would hope, be a sufficient explanation as to why I don’t care for admirers.”
“Are we speaking about the Silas Ruff who left the city a few months back because of unbecoming behavior on his part at some society event?”
“One and the same, and you should know that his unbecoming behavior happened at a ball your own grandmother hosted.”
Bram leaned even closer. “Silas Ruff behaved poorly in the company of my grandmother?”
“Indeed he did, but Archibald’s grandson, Oliver, handled the matter, although it’s quite clear now that Silas wasn’t handled for good. That is why Abigail and I have descended on you unannounced, abusing your hospitality in the process since we certainly didn’t give you an opportunity to refuse us.” She released a sigh. “Silas seems more determined than ever to secure a relationship with me, so do know that I truly appreciate your allowing me to seek refuge here at Ravenwood, at least until I can figure out a way to deal with Silas once and for all.”
Bram looked away from her, his attention settling on a squirrel that was watching them from a nearby tree. Nodding as if to himself, he turned back to Lucetta. “You’re welcome to stay at Ravenwood for as long as you need, and I’ll do whatever I can to assist you.”
“Thank you, Bram. I certainly appreciate your offer, although I’m not sure anyone can assist me with Silas. He’s a very influential man, has unsavory contacts throughout the country, and doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. I’ve been at my wits’ end for years trying to figure out a way to get away from him once and for all, but I’ve yet to come up with a viable plan.”
For a moment, Bram said absolutely nothing as he continued watching her with a considering look in his eyes. Then he took hold of her hand, giving it a good squeeze. “I believe one of the best solutions available to you, and one that will rid you of Silas Ruff once and for all, is this.” He sent her a charming smile as his hand tightened on hers. “You’re going to have to get married, and as circumstances would have it, I would be perfectly willing, and incredibly honored, of course, to offer you the safety of my name.”
10
Mr. Skukman, you’re a man.”
Mr. Skukman backed out of the floor-to-ceiling fireplace he’d been investigating in the tower room and sent Lucetta a frown. “I didn’t realize that was in question.”
Lucetta winced. “Well, no, it’s not. I was simply pointing out that you’re a man, and as such, I’m hoping you can explain to me why another man would offer to marry me—after I explained to that man how peculiar I am, and that I don’t take kindly to admirers.”
“I see we’re back to what happened yesterday with Mr. Haverstein.”
“He offered to marry me.”
“So you’ve said, numerous times.”
“Abigail is upset with me because I graciously rejected Bram’s completely ridiculous suggestion.”
Mr. Skukman quirked a brow her way.
Lifting her chin, Lucetta quirked a brow right back at him. “I was gracious.”
“If you say so. But in my opinion, he offered you a reasonable solution to the very real problem you’re facing with Silas Ruff.”
“You cannot truly believe I should have accepted his proposal, can you?”
Mr. Skukman’s brows drew together. “Of course not, but I would have expected you to show a bit more appreciation for his willingness to sacrifice himself for your benefit.” He ducked back into the fireplace, tapping against the stone with a hammer he’d pulled out of one of his numerous jacket pockets. “I was certain we’d find evidence of a hidden passageway in here, but it sounds remarkably solid.”
Leaning over, Lucetta stuck her head in the fireplace. “What do you mean . . . sacrifice?” she asked, her voice echoing eerily around her.
“I’ve been in your employ for quite some time, Miss Plum. I, probably more than anyone, know your true nature, and . . . you can be difficult—downright cantankerous, some might say.”
“Your days of being in my employ could very well be numbered,” Lucetta muttered.
Mr. Skukman turned and caught her eye. “You would never get rid of me.”
Withdrawing her h
ead from the fireplace, Lucetta wrinkled her nose. “You’re probably right, but I still don’t understand why Bram offered to marry me. As I mentioned a time or two already, I explained to him that I don’t care for admirers, and yet . . . less than ten minutes after I did all that explaining, he offered me his name.”
Mr. Skukman withdrew from the fireplace again as well. “I think what you need to understand, Miss Plum, is that Mr. Haverstein is one of those rare gentlemen, a throwback, if you will, to the days of knights in shining armor. One only has to look at that staff of his, or take a trip to one of his many barns filled to the brim with the oddest assortment of animals I’ve ever seen, to know he possesses a strong sense of chivalry and honor. You, my dear, can’t blame him for offering to marry you, especially not after you presented him with a classic damsel-in-distress scenario.”
With that, Mr. Skukman sent her a rather stern look before he nodded to a bookcase that took up an entire wall on the opposite side of the room. “Now that we’ve settled that, make yourself useful. Since it doesn’t appear there’s a passageway hidden in the fireplace, we’ll try the bookcase next.”
Lucetta frowned. “Don’t you think that would be a little too obvious, hiding a secret passageway behind a bookcase?”
“It’s so obvious that it might very well be the most logical choice. And, given the architecture of Ravenwood, it’s evident the original owner possessed a sense of the dramatic. I imagine he would have enjoyed hiding a secret passageway behind the proverbial bookcase, as well as riding across the misty moors with a pack of snarling wolves nipping at his heels.”
Lucetta tilted her head. “Have you been reading Lord Byron again?”
Mr. Skukman gave a brief nod. “Funny enough, I have. I recently finished Lord Byron’s ‘Manfred,’ although I also recently discovered ‘Nightmare Abbey’ by Thomas Love Peacock.” His eyes went a little distant. “What a fascinating story, filled with characters who were inspired by real-life acquaintances of Thomas Love Peacock, such as that master of romantic poetry himself, Lord Byron.”
Lucetta resisted a grin. “That sounds fascinating indeed, but if we could return to the marriage proposal subject for just another moment . . . ?”
Mr. Skukman nodded to the bookcase again. “I think we’ve covered all there is to cover regarding that, Miss Plum. Off you go.”
Feeling a little put out that Mr. Skukman did not care to continue the discussion surrounding Bram and his proposal, but knowing if she argued the point she’d be proving Mr. Skukman right about her being a touch difficult upon occasion, Lucetta blew out a breath and marched across the room. Eyeing the books, she saw a copy of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë and pulled it out, opening it a second later and quickly becoming immersed in a story she’d somehow neglected to read before.
“I’ve never really understood how you’re able to read so quickly.”
Snapping the book shut, Lucetta lifted her head, found Mr. Skukman watching her, and said, “What a disturbing story Emily Brontë penned. I think it is one you—what, with your appetite for anything gothic these days—will enjoy. Although . . . that Heathcliff character is fodder for some deep contemplation.”
“You didn’t address my previous statement,” Mr. Skukman pointed out. “You’ve obviously almost finished that entire book, yet less than an hour has passed since you picked it up, and . . . clearly you were reading and comprehending what you’d read.”
Lucetta stuck the book back on the shelf. “I’ve been reading for almost an hour?”
“Still not explaining how you read so quickly.”
Knowing Mr. Skukman could be incredibly stubborn when he put his mind to it, Lucetta shrugged. “It’s not a secret, even though I don’t share it often . . . or . . . ever. You see, even though I casually tell people I’m peculiar, the truth of the matter is, I really am. I remember every word, or every number, I see, which means that when I read a book, it’s almost like my mind is taking a photograph, and that photograph is stored away in my memory forever.”
Mr. Skukman sent her a rare smile. “That’s not a peculiar gift, Miss Plum, it’s an extraordinary one.”
Intent on arguing that point, because she’d learned firsthand how unfortunate it was to have her particular gift, Lucetta opened her mouth but was interrupted before she could say a single word when someone rapped on the door.
“Miss Plum, it’s Mrs. Haverstein. I’d like a word with you, if you please.”
Lucetta’s nerves immediately took to jittering. She’d not had an opportunity to speak with Iris, Bram’s mother, as of yet. When she’d returned to the castle with Bram the day before, he’d escorted her straight up to the tower room before bidding her a very pleasant—albeit slightly chilly—good afternoon. After she’d watched him beat a hasty retreat, she’d walked into the tower room and found a lovely luncheon tray waiting for her, as well as Mrs. Macmillan, the housekeeper. Finding it a little odd that the housekeeper would have been standing guard over her lunch, Lucetta soon discovered that the woman had lingered in order to tell Lucetta that Abigail, Archibald, Mr. Kenton, and even Mr. Skukman, had repaired to their respective rooms to eat a peaceful meal, and then to take a rest.
Quickly coming to the conclusion that a rest was a very good option indeed, especially since she’d been very short on sleep, Lucetta had thanked Mrs. Macmillan for providing her with a lunch, ignored the woman’s sniff, and had seen her rapidly out the door. After eating the delightful lunch provided for her, she’d lain down on the bed, appreciating the softness of the blankets covering it, and had fallen straight to sleep.
She’d not woken up until the morning. When she’d gone down to the dining room, she’d been told by a very disappointed Abigail that Bram was not about, Iris had gone back to her own home the day before and had not returned, and Mr. Kenton and Archibald were both beginning to show symptoms of colds so they were going to have a restful day in bed.
Abigail had been so disappointed regarding Lucetta’s rejection of Bram’s offer of marriage, that she’d spent the entire breakfast sighing loudly into her eggs, the sighs finally having Lucetta excusing herself to get ready for the day.
She’d been at the whole getting-ready business for a few hours, but wasn’t keen just yet to seek Abigail out, knowing that woman had now been left to her own devices for quite some time, and during that time, Lucetta was fairly certain Abigail had taken to plotting again.
Reluctantly, Lucetta’s thoughts returned to Iris waiting at the door. “What do you think Mrs. Haverstein wants to speak with me about?” she finally whispered, eyeing the door but making no effort to move toward it.
To her surprise, Mr. Skukman strode to her side, took her by the arm, and the next thing she knew, she was standing behind thick brocade curtains.
“You may consider this, Miss Plum, my apology for calling you difficult, but do try to keep quiet while I deal with Mrs. Haverstein,” he cautioned before he pulled his head out from the curtain, gave it another yank as if to make certain Lucetta was well covered, then moved away, the soles of his shoes clicking against the stone floor. The door gave a squeak, and . . .
“Mr. Skullduggery. I certainly wasn’t expecting to find you up here.”
“It’s Skukman, Mrs. Haverstein.”
“Is it really?”
“Indeed.”
“Hmm, forgive me, then. Although . . . skullduggery fits you admirably, given your daunting appearance. But that’s neither here nor there. I’d like to have a word with Miss Plum.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’m fairly sure you’d like more than a word with her.”
“You may be correct.”
Silence settled around the tower after that, becoming more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked away, punctuated by the large clock that graced the wall right beside where Lucetta was hiding.
“Don’t you believe it’s a little untoward, you being up here in rooms Miss Plum is currently occupying?” Iris suddenly demanded.
/> “Not at all. I’m searching for clues as to how that goat got up here.”
“You’re a man.”
“That has been pointed out quite a bit today.”
“Pardon me?”
Mr. Skukman cleared his throat. “I am Miss Plum’s personal guard, Mrs. Haverstein. As such, it is my duty to keep her safe. I’d be incredibly derelict in that duty if I didn’t investigate threats to her safety, and Geoffrey the goat was a distinct threat and could have caused Miss Plum serious injury.”
“I suppose that is a valid point.”
“Indeed.”
More seconds ticked away.
“Would you happen to know where Miss Plum is?” Iris asked.
“I do.”
“Well?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information, Mrs. Haverstein.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because again, my main objective, as her personal guard, is to keep her safe.”
“I’m not going to harm her.”
“Best not to chance it.”
A loud sigh reached Lucetta’s ears. “Very well. Since you won’t divulge her location, answer me this. Why would Miss Plum turn down a respectable offer of marriage from a gentleman such as my Bram?”
“Why is it that ladies seem to believe I enjoy discussing these types of personal matters?” Mr. Skukman countered.
Iris continued as if Mr. Skukman had not spoken. “Bram is a wealthy, eligible, and influential gentleman who owns his own castle—not to mention his stellar good looks.”
“You’re his mother. Of course you’re going to believe he has stellar good looks.”
“You don’t believe my Bram is handsome?”
“Yet another topic I’m not comfortable discussing, but . . . I suppose if I really consider the matter, yes . . . Mr. Haverstein’s features are adequately arranged, but Miss Plum is not a lady who is impressed by a handsome face.”
“She’s an actress.”
Mr. Skukman let out a bit of a growl, which had Lucetta immediately stepping from behind the curtain. “Thank you, Mr. Skukman, but I think it might be for the best if I take it from here.”